


Salvation

by ausmac



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 22:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: In a universe turned dark by the Burning Legion's victory on Azeroth, can there be any salvation for Anduin and the survivors of his destroyed world?A sequel to "The Body Slave" which I shall work on and add to as inspiration strikes.  Its a rather dark and interesting theme that appeals to me.





	1. Chapter 1

Anduin measured the passage of days by his sleeps, marking them in his notebook, along with his language studies and research.  He'd discovered that if he made an ink of his own blood mixed with liquid fel, he could write in a way that only he could read, a sort of secret coding.  It had been an accidental discovery, when an injury had bled into a container of liquified fel and he'd noticed a small stream of it had faded from sight.  Adjusting the balance kept it visible to him but to no one else.

His arms became marked with small slices where he bled himself to make the ink.  He wrote himself into his diary with the sharp edge of the quill in more ways than one, and there was a certain dark symmetry to that.

He had marked just over 90 days since his last sight of Khadgar when Gul'dan almost killed him.

The warlock had returned to his palace in a massive rage.  He was almost incoherent and Anduin was a handy outlet for his anger.  Not content with using magic, he'd simply smashed and beaten his slave using his hands and feet, claws and tusks until Anduin lay barely conscious, with multiple broken bones, in a pool of blood.  The only word that he understood through the cloud of pain and noise was a name.

_Khadgar…._

When he'd tired of the beating, Gul'dan shuffled away, still cursing, leaving Anduin lying where he'd fallen.  With his vision fading in and out, Anduin carefully propped himself up, his jaws locked together so that only a faint, high sound made it out past his locked teeth.  Inch by inch he pushed himself upright, discovering that he had at least one broken leg, along with the other bones he'd felt snap.  Just standing took all his strength and when he was upright he braced himself against the wall and waited until his vision stopped spinning.

He almost made it to his room.  Each step was agony, he was panting, sweat mingling with the blood, his sight fading in and out and finally he could go no further and he slid down in a corridor and sat with his legs out and his back to the wall.  Either someone would find him and help in some way, or he'd die there, but he could go no further.

Time lost meaning as he faded in an out of consciousness.  Eventually he felt hands lifting him and he shouted in pain and awareness went away…

 

Dim light filtered in through partly opened eyelids, indistinct shapes wavered.  He took in a breath and sobbed at the pain.  A hand came to rest on his forehead.

"There is pain.  Accept it.  Pain means you are alive.  Be strong."

The voice, he knew the voice.  He blinked and focus finally returned.  A figure loomed above him haloed in a drifting green mist.  "Kha…dg…ar?"

"Yes."  He hand was cool and it felt good moving over his forehead.  "He did a good job on you.  My fault, I suspect." 

Anduin tried to concentrate but it was difficult, his head was so woozy, but he heard more words, something about healing and he drifted away into blissful darkness.

When he woke again he was in a soft bed.  He could tell it was a bed because there were coverings over him, and a cushion beneath his head.  Normally he slept on a pallet on the floor which was only marginally better than sleeping on the floor itself.  This bed was comfortable and clean..well, relatively clean.  As sensation returned so did the pain, though not quite as severe as it had been.  He felt bandages on various parts of himself.  Some sort of healing had been done but it was fairly basic. 

Anduin heard footsteps and lifted his head gingerly.

"Do not move too fast.  You are likely to rebreak or tear something."

It was wise advice and he let his head drop back.  "What did you do to him?"

Khadgar stepped closer and Anduin could see him.  "A great deal that he didn’t care for.  Things have changed, Anduin.  Gul'dan doesn’t appreciate the changes."

Things about Khadgar had certainly changed.  He was dressed in black robes, belted at the waist with a long, gemmed and embroidered sash.  His hair had grown and lay over his shoulders in a fall of silver, and he'd grown a matching silver beard and moustache, neatly trimmed.  His eyes shone green and there was an aura of power about him.  And Anduin noticed he no longer wore a Torc.  Instead, he bore Sargeras' symbol emblazoned on his forehead in gold and emerald.  He bent and slid a hand behind Anduin's back.

"Sit up, slowly.  Yes, I know it hurts.  Legion healers are efficient but they don't care about pain relief.  Pain is, after all, a speciality of the Legion.  You need to find your own ways of dealing with it, as I have."

Anduin realised, then, what he was seeing: a corrupted Khadgar.  A very powerful corrupted Khadgar.  "You've…changed…my Lord.."  _Best to be safe, after all…_

"Yes, changed, as you can see.  I have been made Senior Arcanist, I am in charge of the conversion and training of new Fel Mages."  The smile was crooked and knowing.  "I am rather familiar with mages, naturally.  Quite a few were captured on Azeroth, and brought here in case they might prove useful.  I managed to show the Master just how useful I could be, and what servants I could bring to his purpose.  Now," he said, as held Anduin still with one hand at his back, "I want you to concentrate on my eyes, just watch my eyes…"

Anduin did as ordered and so didn’t catch the movement of Khadgar's hand on right shoulder.  He felt a horrible, sharp agony and cried out as the mage twisted his shoulder back into its socket.  Anduin felt ill and weak and he sagged forward, crying despite his best efforts at control, and Khadgar caught and held him.  "It's alright, cry if you need to, I know it hurts.  Let go, it's alright…"

He shuddered and sniffed, face resting against the man's chest.  "Thank…you…I think."

He felt a hand stroking his head and Khadgar's breath whispered over his damp cheeks.  "You are welcome.  I will take you from him, I think.  You deserve a better master than that creature."

Anduin had nothing to say to that so he just lay there as the Senior Arcanist to the Lord of the Burning Legion stroked his head and held him close.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I continue to work on this as inspiration and interest strikes.

At moments when the darkness was a little less smothering, he remembered who he was and what his life had been like before.  But that was just another sort of torture and he tried to purge it, to forget.  But he couldn’t purge his dreams, and the faces of the people he'd loved and lost, the world that was no more, persisted there.  He often woke sobbing.

Anduin realised then that not all his lighter emotions had been dampened or warped.  The harsh ones, that he'd tried so hard to deny in his old life, had certainly blossomed.  Hatred.  Lust.  Vengeance.  Terror.  Those he knew all too well.  But now and then he experienced an echo of his older, softer feelings.  Affection, friendship, the memory of warm days and sunshine and sweet, clean air and water.  It hurt to remember them for they were lost forever, but even with the hurt there was a strange comfort.  To pay for fond memory with misery, that he could accept as a proper renumeration.

As always, it took time to recover from his mistreatment.  He suffered frequent headaches and he thought he would always limp on a leg not quite healed right.  He would remember now and then of being held by Khadgar, of the almost gentle touch of his hand, of his words.  Anduin knew they were probably just words, that the man would not have the power to take him away from Gul'dan and he had long since learned the futility of hope.  But he hoped anyhow.

The pain the injuries caused diminished but not entirely, and he found a way of making potions that helped him rest, since sleeping on a damaged leg was often difficult.  The laboratories in Gul'dan's castle contained a great many ingredients and once he'd begun to master Demonic, Anduin was able to sort through them, to find which were useful and which weren't.  His early training as priest had taught him the making of potions and elixirs.  He'd had little use for it once he'd assumed his full priesthood but it came in handy in his new existence.  Not that he'd been permitted to just walk in and mix potions without approval.  Trust was not something natural to the Legion and his wish to prepare potions had been met with suspicion by the alchemists.  He'd gone to Gul'dan and sought permission, expecting to be refused.  He remembered that occasion well…

He waited for a time after Gul'dan had eaten and was relaxed and Anduin had finished a particularly fine massage and masturbation.  As he wiped his hands on the damp cloth, from his position kneeling between the orc's open legs, he had dipped his head and taken a steadying breath.

"Master, might I ask a favour?"

Gul'dan's eyes, that had been half-closed in pleasure, widened slightly.  "You may ask."

"Might I make some personal potions in one of your lesser laboratories?  Purely for my own use…pain relief and healing potions.  My body is weak and repairs slowly."

He guessed that last would appeal to Gul'dan's ego and was silently pleased to see his reading was right as the orc snorted in amusement.  "Yes it is, little human.  I see no issue with that, as long as you provide any potions to one of the alchemists for testing before you remove it from the laboratory.  Tell them that condition and to check with me if they doubt you.  Now," he said, shifting his legs, "show me your gratitude for my generosity."

It had been worth the extra servicing to gain access to the laboratory.  Naturally the alchemists didn't bother to check with Gul'dan; they knew Anduin would never utter such an obvious and provable lie.  It was good to be busy again at something that interested him and time passed almost pleasantly, between those times when it didn't.  It was almost fourteen day periods since his last sight of Khadgar, when he saw him again.

The Senior Arcanist arrived unannounced at the start of an evening meal, and Gul'dan was immediately annoyed.  Anduin watched Khadgar's entry from his position kneeling beside the orc.  Khadgar had arrived accompanied by a set of personal assistants; all human, they were black robed and green eyed and they watched Khadgar with unblinking intensity. They only looked away from him when Gul'dan spoke, and their expressions, though controlled, weren't warm.  Gul'dan straightened in his chair and growled.

"What do you want?"

Khadgar smiled and folded his hands into his wide sleeves.  "Good, straight to the point.  As a matter of fact, I want Anduin."

There was a moment or two of frozen shock and then Anduin was jerked off his feet and dragged upright and held in a harsh grasp.  One big orc hand wrapped around his throat and he knew it was useless to struggle – Gul'dan was strong enough to snap his neck if he chose.  "I'll kill him right in front of you, human dog!  No one takes from me what is mine!"

Anduin did nothing, he hung there in between the moments of life and death and wasn't sure which he would welcome more.  Only a weary curiosity stopped him from fighting Gul'dan enough to find out what would follow his last breath.  And he heard, through the buzzing in his ears, the soft, dangerous voice of the human mage standing just across the room.

"You will release him to me, you will not harm him, and you will do it now, or by the power of my authority and my will, I will kill you where you stand." 

Anduin found his focus in those watching green eyes.  He couldn't look away as he slid his hands around Gul'dan's wrists and stretched up on tiptoes to lessen the pressure so he could watch and understand.  Those eyes were focused on Gul'dan, not him, and his voice, when he spoke again, had an eerie echoing vibration, as if there were two of him speaking at once.  Khadgar removed his hands from his sleeves and held one out, palm up.  Sitting there was a metallic glyph, a silver and emerald symbol that lifted from his hand and slowly spun around with no visible support.  "This is Kil'jaeden's Mark of my authority.  Question my right if you wish.  Question the Lord's authority and you will certainly die."

He couldn't of course, and Anduin sensed Gul'dan's frustrated fury in the shaking, hardening grip around his throat.  The orc growled and cursed and suddenly Anduin was breathing, his throat aching as he staggered and tripped to fall face-first onto one of Gul'dan's expensive carpets.  Hands lifted him and he looked up into a familiar face.

"Mod…era?"  He remembered her from Dalaran. She had been one of Khadgar's fellow archmages and it was rumoured her relationship with Khadgar had been more than professional.  This woman was much changed from the one he'd known; her face was a pattern of scars, one of which cut across her cheek over her mouth, causing one side to pucker upwards in a sort of twisted smile.  Her eyes were lit by the fel of course, and shone large and bright in her pale face.

She gave a small confirming grunt as she pulled him upright, her hand supportive under his elbow.  "Be still," she said, her voice a cool whisper and he did, turning his attention to Khadgar.

He knew how enraged Gul'dan would be – not because he felt any sort of affection for Anduin, but because he hated being beaten.  And to be beaten in anything by a human would be even more galling.  For a moment Anduin thought he'd explode into violence and attack despite any orders but somehow he restrained himself – though it didn’t stop him from spitting out threats.

"One day I'll see you die," he hissed, eyes feral, his body taut with anger.  "Slowly, painfully.  If you thought what I did to you before was terrible, you can't even imagine…"

"Oh, be quiet, you bore me."  Khadgar turned his back on the warlock and raised a hand in a commanding gesture.  His people formed about him in a protective ring and Modera joined him, bringing Anduin with her.  Once outside, she created a portal and they all stepped through and it closed the moment the last mage stepped through. 


	3. Chapter 3

Being Gul'dan's slave had become a familiar degradation.  Sometimes he'd stop and consider that, how humiliation could become so commonplace, how pain could be the norm.  It was the cost of survival, and sanity.  Not acceptance – he would tell himself it wasn't that – but to resist was to die.  Life was potential.  It was also the possibility of revenge, no matter how small a chance that might be.

But it had become habitual, so the abrupt change was disorienting, a door slamming as another opened leading to a new place, new faces, new possibilities.  And new threats.  It left Anduin unbalanced, uncertain and, as shameful as it was, afraid.  Fear was a survival response, he knew that.  Yet it was still shameful.

The air smelled different and it took him a while to realise why.  There were no orcs there, no orc smell.  He'd become so accustomed to the reek of orc bodies, the sudden lack was disorienting.  Magic swirled around him and although he couldn't draw on it, he could sense it.  And when he was finally able to focus, to hear through the white noise in his head, he saw Khadgar's face.

Reality pushed him to his knees in an automatic obeisance.  "My Lord."

He watched, frozen, as one white hand reach out to his head.  Fingers combed through his hair.  "It took me longer to get you than I liked,  Persuading Kil'jaden to give you to me was…difficult."  Anduin carefully raised his face to look into the green eyes watching him.  "Demons aren't particularly interested in human feelings, except on a rather broad scale."  He smiled down at Anduin and for a moment his eyes flashed blue.  Then he blinked and the light of the fel filled them again.  "Stand, you need a bath, you reek of orc.  Charn will show you to my rooms."

Anduin stood and bowed in mute obedience, turning to follow the robed acolyte.  Walking, placing one foot before the other, keeping pace with the silent mage, allowed him to focus, to calm himself.  He was too weak in his current state to appear other than docile – the Legion destroyed what it perceived as a threat.  It was almost instinct to become ineffectual  Once he was calmer, he could study his new surroundings in relative safety as he walked.

Gul'dan had favoured orc-inspired design that was all sharp, hardness and stained stone.  Khadgar's choices were far different.  He paused at a window covered by intricate glass and saw that it was a tower of grey stone, its walls sweeping away from view.  Smaller tower appeared to surround it, linked like the spokes of wheel to the centre by covered walkways.  It was built on a hill looking across the plains of Mac'aree, which surprised Anduin.  Situated there, it was further from the centre of power on Argus, though it was certainly a far more attractive place. 

Khadgar's rooms were nothing like the overdone grandeur that Gul'dan had chosen; they were clean, simple, modestly decorated.  A large bed was set against one wall, with a bedside table cluttered with books and scrolls and a lamp.  There were no wall decorations, no fancy carpeting; the floors were wood covered with well-worn rugs, and shutters were set on each side of the windows, open at that moment to let in air and light.  Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes of various sizes and they muted sharp sounds in the room and gave off the comforting odour of old paper and leather. 

Charn pointed to a door on the far wall.  "The bathing room is there, you are to draw a bath.  Do not leave these rooms without the Master's permission." 

Then he was alone, standing in the centre of the room without the sight or sound of anyone close by.  It was a strange feeling – he'd rarely been completely alone since his capture.  He'd known someone was always watching, checking on him, suspicious eyes followed him everywhere.  Yet in that room, for that moment, he was alone.

It felt good.  Unnerving, but good.

A bath seemed like an excellent idea, and Anduin went to investigate.  There was a basket provided for dirty items and he pulled off his fouled outer robes and tossed them in.  The washroom was tiled in cream and gold, fitted out with a large round tub, and with a separate bench set on sloping tiles that let water flow to a central drain, for pre-washing.  The tub had two taps and he was familiar with their workings; the hot tap was for water fed through pipes beneath the ground that penetrated the hot fel pools, the cold water was from filtered tanks.  He turned on both and tested out some of the glass bottles on the washer bench, finding one with a pleasantly scented bathing oil.

As the tub filled, he stripped off down to his loin cloth and was about to test the water when he heard the outer door open and a familiar voice.

"Oh good, you've drawn a bath.  Excellent idea."  He stepped back as Khadgar entered and saw that he'd started pulling off his clothing, letting them drop as he walked across the room.  It was the easiest thing to switch into serving mode and Anduin bowed and turned to collect the sponge, bucket and ladle.  "Yes, Master, if you will check that the temperature is to your liking, I will be happy to carry out your prewash."  He saw the bare feet stop in front of him and carefully raised his eyes.

Khadgar was standing almost naked before him, his face set in an expression that was entirely unreadable.  "Your eyes are still blue."

It was such an abrupt switch of topic that it caught Anduin by surprise.  He blinked.  "Umm, yes."

"Interesting that Gul'dan didn't fully turn you."

Anduin lowered his eyes to the floor, suddenly chilled in the midst of the moist heat of the room.  "I imagine he enjoyed me being as I was."

"Obviously.  Don't be concerned, it isn't my immediate intention to convert you." Khadgar turned to the tub and tested the water with one hand.  "The bath is fine and…yes, you may serve me.  I am sure you will be most competent."

Anduin did, indeed, know this duty very well.  He collected a bucket full of water from the tub, immersed the sponge and soaped it.  Khadgar had already taken a seat on the bench in the tiled area and Anduin went to work, sponging his back first, circling over his shoulders and down to his hips.  He noted the pattern of scars there, the remains of the damage suffered during his breaking.  They all bore scars, all of the broken or Fallen, of one sort of another.

He washed away the soap with a ladle of water then walked around to kneel before Khadgar, and began working on his front.  Legs first, then stomach, arms and chest.  As he circled the sponge over the pale skin, he remembered that this man was older than his father had been at his death – yet he was remarkably fit and showed little signs of the years he bore.  Hardly any wrinkling marred the firm skin and his stomach was flat and firm.  Then again, mages aged much more slowly than other folk, their magic preserved them well past normal lifetimes.  And he knew that Khadgar's hair had been grey for decades, that Medivh had somehow aged him when he was a young man.

Once he'd soaped everywhere and rinsed Khadgar off, the Mage stepped up into the tub.  He settled back on the inbuilt bench with a sigh.  "Exquisite.  Wash yourself and join me," he said and Anduin quickly took off his loincloth, did a rapid soap and rinse, then climbed in to stand ready for further instruction. 

The water came up to his hips and he waited, feeling the heat spread through his skin and into his muscles, and a further, deeper warmth spreading out from his stomach.  He took in a deep breath and tried to focus on Khadgar's face, tried to read his intent but the older man was unreadable.  The comfort of the hot water, the sense of being clean and away from Gul'dan's control, generated a dangerous sense of safety.

Nowhere was safe, he knew that logically.  But even so, he couldn’t help looking in the face of the man he'd known so well, and wondering.  So many questions, none of which he could ask. He focused on the moment and saw Khadgar studying his face.  The mage raised a hand and touched his forehead.

"This has to go, I won't have the orc's mark on you."  The fingers slid down his cheek, feather-light, ran over his lips to his chin, then the hand moved back.  "I will mark you to my service."

And it was done that night, when his servants worked their magic on Anduin's skin, smoothing away Gul'dans mark and overwriting it with Khadgar's so that it hardly hurt at all.


	4. Chapter 4

The Arcane Tower seemed alive with quiet purpose.  Anduin hadn't heard what Khadgar's headquarters were called, but it seemed an apt name.  Although the Senior Arcanist was frequently busy elsewhere, still the other residents of his tower went about their duties with an air of resolve that Anduin could sense from experience. And there was quite a variety of residents; not everyone he saw was a mage.  There were warriors and priests and even a few fallen paladins, though he'd seen no shamans or druids.  However, the majority appeared to be mages of almost every race, even a couple of orcs.  By far the largest proportion were human, however. 

There was one surprising exception. 

Early the following day Anduin was taken by an Acolyte out of the central tower and down to ground level.  They crossed one of the walkways to a tower with doors which were exceptionally wide and high.  The corridor inside was equally generous and led through to a huge central room whose ceiling was at least two levels above the stone floor.  As he followed the mage across the dimly lit room he saw a figure resting on a raised padded platform.  He didn't need to be ordered to stop.  The sight of the figure, when it became clear, was enough of a shock to bring him to an abrupt halt.

It seemed that not every dragon had died defending Azeroth. 

As with everyone taken and converted to servants of the Legion, Kalecgos was much changed.  His human form was a gaunt pale version of his former hale strength.  Long hair flowed down his back, silver-green, framing a face that was relatively unscarred.  His eyes were living emeralds that blazed under white eyebrows.  Robed in black and green, a staff resting on the chair beside him, his cool, dispassionate gaze was fixed on Anduin's face.

"Greetings, Anduin."  Kalec's voice was hoarse and vibrant and Anduin moved forward again to sink to he knees as far from the tall figure as he dared.

"My…Lord.  I had no expected…"

"…that any of us survived?  Few did.  The conversion was difficult."

Anduin lifted his eyes as heard the scrape of clawed feet on the wood platform.  Kalec stepped down to floor level and, from his kneeling position, Anduin saw the tips of claws showing beneath the hem of the dragon's robe.  When he glanced up he could see that Kalec's face wasn't totally unmarked; Khadgar's mark was etched on his forehead and it was framed in pale, scintillating arcane symbols.

"My Lord has given me instructions regarding you."

Fear ripped along Anduin's skin.  "Instructions?"

"Instructions that require your obedience."  Green eyes blinked as pairs of draconic eyelids lowered over them, masking emotion.  "You will endure."

 

He endured, somehow - perhaps that part of him that remained of his father, that stubborn refusal to simply give in, had kept him going.

He had been taken away to another smaller room, stripped and suspended by iron chains from padded bindings around his arms, chest and thighs.  And for an interminable time afterwards Kalecgos had poured arcane power into him that seared his body and mind in agonising waves.

He had screamed until his throat was raw and nothing came from it but hoarse grunts.  He had fouled himself, emptying everything within, all the fluids in bowel and stomach, all the hope in his heart.  He'd begged for the release of death when he could finally endure no more.  But it wasn't to be.  A healer stood off to the side, sustaining his heart, keeping him breathing but doing nothing to relieve the pain.

 _I am such a fool…to believe..to hope.._.  His stupidity only made the pain worse.  Khadgar was of the Legion, that used torture the way other people used language.  Even knowing that, still his heart ached with every shuddering, grating cry.  He was no better off than he had been with Gul'dan.  The faces were more attractive, that was all.  He was a fool, and he wanted to die.

_Who knows, even if I've lost the Light, perhaps I'll find it again, somewhere…_

He couldn’t pass out, even that was denied him and he had to experience each moment.  If there was a reason for it, he wasn't told the reason.  If it was a punishment, he had no idea of his crime.  And when it finally stopped the relief was so intense he sobbed and shuddered and fell forward as the bonds were released. 

And when he'd been able to focus, there was Khadgar standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his wide sleeves, apparently relaxed in the face of Anduin's anguish.  Anger had pushed through common sense and driven Anduin to his feet.  Bitter bile flooded his mouth and he'd staggered two steps forward and spat into Khadgar's face.

He'd expected death, almost welcomed it and was too tired to even be surprised when he survived.  Khadgar hadn't bothered to wipe the moisture away; he'd pulled Anduin to him, ignoring the smears of Anduin's filth across his pristine robes and when he spoke, he'd sounded amused.

"Still spirited, I see."  He took Anduin by the upper arms and turned him towards Kalec.  "Bring him."

And it was over, whatever it was, and he was alive and shivering in the middle of his mess on the cold stone floor.

The dragon didn’t seem too pleased to be given the job of conveying Anduin's filthy naked body but he obeyed, nostrils pinching in distaste.  Anduin staggered and stumbled and finally the dragon picked him up and threw him across his shoulder like a sack as he followed his Lord outside and up to the main tower.  Khadgar led them both to his rooms where a bath had been prepared and Kalec dropped Anduin into the tub, sending hot water spraying outwards.

By the time Anduin had surfaced, spluttering and choking, Kalec was gone and he was alone.

He stood still for a time, shivering.  Shock, chill, surprise, everything about the day's events had shaken his usual control.  With Gul'dan, he'd known what to expect and had grown a sort of emotional armour against it.  With Khadgar, he was as naked mentally as he was physically at that moment.  Gul'dan had always been his enemy and his actions had been expected, but Khadgar had been a part of his life since birth and switching his reactions to the man wasn't as simple as just thinking he needed to.  Instinctively, he liked and trusted the man.  That sort of lifelong acceptance was hard to overcome.

It was a pointless line of thought at that moment so he put it aside and concentrated on getting clean.  Once that was done he climbed out and took a grey cloth robe hanging from a peg on the wall and tied it closed with a sash around his waist.  He moved out of the bathing room and stopped; it was another part of Khadgar's suite of rooms for the mage was sitting at a desk across a larger room lined with bookshelves.  Khadgar looked up as he entered and stood to walk around the desk, coming to a halt a short distance away.  Tucking his hands together, he studied Anduin, eyes moving from his feet up to his face.  Khadgar nodded slowly and gestured to one of two armchairs set before an unlit fireplace.  "Sit.  We have much to talk about."

Anduin obeyed and waited as Khadgar settled himself in the opposite chair.  "What was done to you today was necessary.  Yes," Khadgar continued, eyelids lowering at Anduin's barely controlled twitch, "necessary.  I could not be certain that Gul'dan had not insinuated some form of command into your subconscious, or some method of control.  You would be unaware of it, would be like a ticking bomb waiting to explode at his command."

"I see."  He didn’t really, and his tone was probably expressive. 

"You don't really, and I appreciate that.  Fel magic isn't precise enough for that sort of hidden command, it would require an arcane spell.  And the only way to test for it was with more arcane magic.  By flooding your body to the point of danger, Kalec's power would have triggered a response.  You will be pleased to know I overestimated Gul'dan's cunning in this instance."

"So, you didn't torture me because…"  Anduin stopped, biting off his words, if not his intent but Khadgar was astute enough to understand.

"Because I enjoy dealing out pain?  No.  It isn’t something that gives me any particular pleasure.  It's necessary during the conversion process, or in cases such as yours, and no more.  I am not a demon, Anduin, nor a twisted warlock like Gul'dan and his ilk.  They are satisfied by anguish.  My…pleasures..are different."  He stood and lifted a pale hand.  "Come here."

He obeyed and held himself upright as Khadgar moved closer.  The mage placed both hands around Anduin's head, tilting his face upwards until their eyes locked, blue and vivid green.  Anduin watched, breathless, as Khadgar leaned in and kissed the brand on his forehead.

"You are mine," he said very softly, his breath stirring across Anduin's face.  "Serve me well and who knows what the future will bring, for both of us."  His hands dropped, his expression was masked.  "Speak to one of my guards outside, they will take you to your room.  Go and dress and eat, rest for a time.  I'll call you when I need you."

Anduin bowed and obeyed, as candles were lit and the fire crackled into life behind him in a flash of bright power.


End file.
